Aston Martin is Great Britain’s most redoubtable and successful marque at the Le Mans 24 Hours.
Its 24 pots of various kinds earned since its debut in 1929 includes three Rudge-Whitworth Biennial Cups, two Indices of Performance – all secured prior to 1951 – and 19 capacity class/category wins.
Jaguar has won eight since 1950. Admittedly seven of those were awarded for outright victories on distance. Aston Martin has just one such success to its name: 1959.
Spurred on by the boost in car sales that winning Le Mans brought, Jaguar leapt into the 1950s fray, taking on an increasingly competitive field and winning again and again, with its futuristic C-types and D-types
By
Paul Fearnley
Huddersfield transmission-and-tractor tycoon David Brown had tried 10 times to win with the company that he had bought for £20,500 in 1947: a quest resulting in three second places – in 1955, 1956 and 1958 – and much heartache.
The cars that bore his name and initials were pretty and nimble but lacked the grunt required by this high-speed circuit. The (originally) 2.6-litre straight-six included in his £50k purchase of Lagonda in 1947 was, according to Stirling Moss, “pernickety”: “I was used to things coming past us.”
Hardly the stuff of Mulsanne Straight lore.
Though the race had come to it with the introduction of a 3-litre limit in 1958, and though the DBR1 that carried it was even prettier and nimbler than its predecessor, its main V12 rival still came sailing past. The same would be true in 1959. Despite 400rpm extra due to improved but unlovely aerodynamics — deeper, flared front wings; removable spats over the rear wheels; a tonneau across the passenger seat; and higher, more rounded rear bodywork – DBR1’s top speed was reckoned by some to be as much as 15mph shy of that of Ferrari’s Testa Rossa.
The pressure was on.
Roy Salvadori prepares to climb aboard his Aston Martin DBR1 (No 5), while Stirling Moss leaps into his (No 4)
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“David [Brown] had made it very clear that this was possibly our last shot at it,” said chief designer Ted Cutting. “Not his last shot, you understand — ours.”
If Aston were to win, it would be by rigorous application of strategy and tactics formulated by shrewd general manager John Wyer and implemented via the loud hailer of respected team manager Reg Parnell.
The former was convinced that the Ferraris would fight among themselves. To make doubly sure he asked Moss to be his fox to the Prancing Horses.
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By
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“I don’t think Stirling ever thought that he was going to finish that race,” said Cutting. “That wasn’t his job. There was a distinct feeling among us that the Ferraris had a flaw that season — overheating — and we wanted to take advantage of that.”
Moss begged to differ: “Wyer gave me carte blanche to drive as hard as I could while sticking to the rev limit; I planned to take more out of myself than the car. There’s nothing worse than loping around Le Mans. I wasn’t, though, planning on retiring.”
A broken valve sidelined him after five hours. He had done his utmost – bolting from the run-and-jump start – but even the sublime Moss had had to give best to a Jean Behra driving seemingly in a fury: the Aston gained another 350rpm in the stampeding Ferrari’s slipstream.
Wyer refused to panic, and wry smiles and knowing looks were exchanged – Moss was by now in his civvies on the pit wall – when the leading Ferrari pitted after 129 laps, its left-hand exhausts emitting smoke, its cockpit smeared with oil.
What was concerning, however, was that the remaining works Ferrari appeared to be wise to Wyer. Even when carburetion problems dropped Phil Hill/Olivier Gendebien from third place to eighth during the fourth hour, they, too, had refused to panic. The winners of 1958 recovered gradually as midnight came and went — and took the lead when Roy Salvadori pitted his Aston just before 2am because of a mysterious vibration.
In pursuit of Ferrari, Aston Martin pits its DBR1
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“The mechanics could find nothing wrong,” said Salvadori. “I was told to carry on for several more laps until the car became eligible for refuelling [30 laps had to be completed between liquid ‘refreshments’]. By this time it was so bad that I thought the rear end was about to fall off, and I lapped at a crawl.”
He feared the usual gearbox issues – a DB product, embarrassingly – but in fact his right-rear Avon had lost a chunk of tread.
“Almost 2ft of it,” said Cutting, who had skipped the race in order to concentrate on Astons’ nascent Grand Prix car. “When finally they decided to have a proper look and took the spat off, it became clear that the tyre was ruined.”
Up to 15 minutes had been lost – but it could have been so much worse. Plus, a soothing Wyer told the fretful Salvadori, that final Testa Rossa would retire. Just stick to the plan.
Salvadori and co-driver Carroll Shelby drove as hard as they dared, but the fundamentally faster Ferrari continued to edge away — the Aston suffering a misfire at half-distance — and its lead at one point stretched to four laps.
“Carroll and I had the right mental approach,” said Salvadori. “We decided to put all our effort into late braking and fast cornering in order to save the engine and gearbox.”
The car, in fact, was healthier than its drivers: Roy, recovering from flu, was being increasingly hampered by a foot cooked by a rerouted exhaust; and Shelby, suffering the lingering effects of dysentery, was racing with a nitroglycerin tablet under his tongue.
Carroll Shelby at the wheel of the Aston Martin DB1
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“I’m not sure he knew what the problem was,” said Cutting of the heart problem that would cause Shelby to hang up his helmet at the end of 1960. “He probably thought he had indigestion. If he did know, he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t want to miss out on this golden opportunity.”
The endgame began not long after 11am. Gendebien, normally so mechanically minded, had missed his water temp creeping off the dial. Overheating V12 misfiring, he pitted and harassed mechanics increased the fuel pump’s pressure to strengthen the mixture. One more lap. No joy.
Next they poured water on the pump to cure potential vapour locks. Another lap. Still no joy. (One of the copper rings sealing a combustion chamber had burnt through.) Unable even to check the radiator’s level amid a 30-lap stint, retirement was forgone.
With team-mates Paul Frère/Maurice Trintignant now riding shotgun two laps down, Salvadori circulated 40sec slower than his earlier pace – oil usage was becoming a worry – and hopped out (literally) with two hours to go. He had driven for the maximum 14 hours permitted. His foot forever bore a scar to prove it.
The garrulous Shelby in his trademark pinstriped bib-and-braces — his “Arkansas dinner jacket”— and the buttoned-up, hawkish Wyer made for an odd couple, but they got on well and trusted each other.
“If you did what [Wyer] asked, whatever happened, he’d never complain,” said Shelby. “But he was unforgiving if you didn’t listen.”
This was no time to break that bond. The fastidiously briefed Shelby jumped in. And at 4pm most of the rest of the team – the besuited Brown perching between Salvadori and Moss — jumped on the parading victorious Aston.
Carroll Shelby (right), David Brown (middle) and Reg Parnell (left) celebrate victory at Le Mans
